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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347539">It’s A Matter Of Realism</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hideous_Sun_Demon/pseuds/Hideous_Sun_Demon'>Hideous_Sun_Demon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>our atoms straining to align (was the universe in rehearsal for us) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Dramatic Irony, Gen, Humour, Soulmate AU, You’ll feel sad even when they don’t</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:20:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hideous_Sun_Demon/pseuds/Hideous_Sun_Demon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is born with their soulmate’s last words to them printed on their body. Merlin sees Arthur’s, and he has Thoughts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur Pendragon &amp; Merlin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>our atoms straining to align (was the universe in rehearsal for us) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>129</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>It’s A Matter Of Realism</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Couldn’t say exactly when this is set, but it’s early on in the show, probably season 1.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The root-strewn woods on the outskirts of Camelot didn’t make for a particularly comfortable ride, especially not when nursing a nasty cut down the arm. Definitely not the worst wound Arthur had ever taken, even just from what Merlin had witnessed firsthand, but when you’re directing a horse through bumpy terrain, these things could become bothersome all too quickly. Merlin watched Arthur breathe deep, grit his teeth, and carefully not flinch.</p>
<p>Merlin had tried applying one of the soothing poultices that Gaius had begun teaching him how to make. He’d even tried charming—secretly of course, when Arthur was well and truly distracted with cursing out the corpse of the bandit that had landed the slice down his arm—the water he’d used to clean out the wound. Nothing seemed to be making much difference though, so Merlin figured using his third weapon was worth a shot. Nothing countered a bother better than another bother, after all.</p>
<p>“I just don’t think it’s very realistic, is all.”</p>
<p>Merlin hadn’t seen Arthur’s Words up until now; the Prince had made sure of that. He had a leather cuff, worn from years and battles but still an impressive piece of craftsmanship, strapped around his forearm at all times, designed for exactly such a purpose. It seemed to be high fashion with the nobles; the King had one too, worn around his bicep on the opposite arm. Arthur kept his on even as Merlin bathed him. Even as he slept.</p>
<p>The cuff was currently lying somewhere on the forest floor, stained with blood and discarded by Merlin after it had caught the sorry end of a bandit’s sword. He hadn’t bothered picking it up after he’d finished treating the wound. Arthur would probably chew him out for it, but at least it meant he wouldn’t have to spend his time mending it. Besides, he’d had more interesting things on his mind.</p>
<p>The jagged wound hadn’t quite extended far enough to blemish the words scrawled across the underside of Arthur’s forearm, so after Merlin had wiped away the blood and the dirt they’d been impossible to miss. <em>YOU WOULD HAVE DONE THAT WITHOUT ME.</em></p>
<p>The words had conjured images of the Great Dragon, peering down at Merlin from atop his crag of rock as he talked about all the great things Arthur would accomplish. Good thing Arthur’s soulmate would apparently be able to see that, because honestly, at this point in time, Merlin was feeling more than a little dubious.</p>
<p>“Not realistic,” Arthur echoed flatly, voice dripping with disdain. “And why is that?”</p>
<p>Merlin clicked his tongue at his horse, spurring it on just a little faster to catch up with Arthur, who was speeding home with all the furor of a vengeful warrior. The wound must be smarting, sure, but it wouldn’t hurt that badly. Privately, Merlin thought Arthur was probably embarrassed at what he had seen. Good thing Merlin had no intention of letting him forget it, then. “It’s just….have you ever actually done anything yourself?” he asked.</p>
<p>He could actually feel the force of Arthur’s eyes rolling. “I’m a prince,” he ticked off on his fingers. “I’m the greatest warrior in the land. I have led my men into victory more times than I can count—“</p>
<p>“And yet, you still need me to wash your socks for you.”</p>
<p>Arthur’s voice was bright and hard, like a sparring blade. “There’s another thing I did: found a way to make you useful.”</p>
<p>They rode on a little further in a silence that Merlin knew was not meant to be broken. This was, he had learned by now, time for Arthur’s brooding reverie. He respected it for all of three minutes before he got bored again. “It just seems awfully nice. Suspiciously nice.”</p>
<p>Arthur threw him a withering glance over his shoulder. “You know, it’s not actually considered polite to discuss other people’s Words, Merlin. It’s supposed to be very….intimate.” He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle at the last word. Merlin didn’t bother to suppress his smirk.</p>
<p>“It’s not my fault I saw them!” he protested. “Besides, I thought you’d welcome some constructive criticism.”</p>
<p>“Well, what are yours, then?”</p>
<p>Merlin shook his head gravely. “Oh. Well, that’s personal, you see.”</p>
<p>“<em>Merlin</em>.”</p>
<p>The two small words that curled across Merlin’s collarbone seemed to warm as his mind drifted to them, and he reached up to adjust his neckerchief. Back in Ealdor, people weren’t as hung up about others seeing their soulmate’s last words to them, so nobody would have custom-made cuffs to hide them away even if they could afford such a thing. Walking around with a bare collarbone in Camelot would have been the height of gaudiness though, so Merlin made do with what he had.</p>
<p>“I’m actually proud of mine,” he declared, after a pause. “<em>Thank you</em>. I have to wait my whole life, but finally—“ he shot Arthur a cheeky grin—“I’ll get the appreciation I deserve.”</p>
<p>And about bloody time, too. Just a shame that his soulmate, whoever they are, has to go and wait until their last words to tell Merlin that.</p>
<p>Arthur considered that for a long, thoughtful moment before finally shaking his head. “....No. No, that doesn’t seem right at all.”</p>
<p>“Well they still make a lot more sense than yours,” Merlin retorted, grinning as they sunk themselves properly into their game. “<em>You would have done that without me, you royal prat</em>, maybe.” He nodded decisively. Yes, that was far more like it.</p>
<p>Arthur’s lofty tone came crashing down on him. It only just barely covered up the sound of the smile that Merlin knew was lurking somewhere in that voice of his. “On the contrary, Merlin, mine make complete sense, because the only person in the world stupid enough to say that to me is you.”</p>
<p>“And there’s no way we’re soulmates.”</p>
<p>“Correct.”</p>
<p>“You’ll never thank me for anything.” Merlin winced internally. That had come out too quiet, too genuine. Far, far close to the bitter truth for his own liking. He could feel Arthur’s weighted gaze on him, and he shook his head, dislodging it with a cheery flash of his teeth. “Not even for washing your socks.”</p>
<p>Arthur watched him for a second or two longer, ponderous, before huffing quietly. “For once, we’re in agreement.”</p>
<p>They rode on to Camelot.</p>
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